One Night Stand
by Obsidian Blade
Summary: The late-night panic of the adulterous. One-shot.


**ONE-NIGHT STAND**  
by Obsidian Blade

Bulma had expected to wake alone, and in many ways she had been right. There was no arm around her waist; no breath on the nape of her neck; no dark eyes studying her in the gloom, watching her sleep; no affectionate curve of his lips as she woke. The mattress beside her was cold and empty, the sheets falling flat on either side of her body as she lay, staring at the ceiling.

As though ticking off the boxes on an evaluation sheet for a new experiment, her mind ran through the list of things she'd grown used to with Yamcha that were missing now. Her consciousness focused so pointedly on the deficit that the rhythmic flow of breath running parallel to her own nearly escaped her altogether. But her breaths were short and shallow. His were long and even. There was no way anyone could confuse the two.

She froze. What if he _was_ watching her? Appreciatively examining her features or pondering how to make her death look like an accident? She wasn't even sure which scenario she would rather face. But no, no he had to be asleep. She would never hear him breathing otherwise.

Warily, she slid her gaze to the left, trailing from the wild tangle of her perm across the expanse of his pillow. It was a long way to go for very little reward. Pressed right against the edge of the bed, Vegeta had reduced himself to little more than an angular, solid shape beneath the sheet. A few dishevelled spikes of hair protruded over the raised line of the pillowcase, and that was it for distinguishing features. For someone as easily recognisable as Vegeta, it was quite the feat.

Bulma's stomach tightened at the sight. She willingly gave him access to a body as fantastic as hers, risking her perfectly decent relationship with her sweet, friendly boyfriend, and he could barely bring himself to share a bed properly with her for one measly night? He looked set to escape to the damned floor at any moment; in fact, she really ought to help liberate him by shoving him down there, that would show him. If he'd been half the man Yamcha was he would have at least been appreciative enough to face her-

But then, when was the last time she and Yamcha had woken intertwined after a night of sex? When was the last time she and Yamcha _had_ a night of sex? Had sex at all? Her mind roved through an ugly diary of weekly quickies and mornings lying back to back, wondering if she could get away with kicking him awake so she could kiss him good morning and go get some damned breakfast.

This – thing – with Vegeta was no worse than that. In fact, it was better, wasn't it? What little affection she had stored away for the Saiyan's quips was vastly outweighed by her irritation with his unyielding wretchedness. She didn't love him. All the things she had been judging him on – the lack of contact, the lack of warmth – she didn't want them from him. She wanted them from Yamcha. It was when Yamcha let her down, when she failed to engage with Yamcha, that going through her mental checklist began to hurt.

Hell, if Vegeta showed any sign of morning sweetness, that would set her against him, not this gaping gap in the bed. She hadn't even considered how this one-night stand might affect the way he acted around her because it was just that: a one-night stand. They both knew that. That was all either of them wanted. She certainly didn't expect him to start asking after her health and holding doors for her, let alone anything more serious; he had better not think their weekly rows over broken droids and his general attitude were going to fade.

But he was still here. He hadn't disappeared before she could wake up, like the egocentric arse she knew him to be. It worried her. She couldn't fathom his logic. They rarely even spoke: he ranged through her mansion of a home like a wraith, an intense presence when they _did _find themselves face to face, but largely limited to the creak of footsteps on the floor above or the slamming of the far door as she entered a room. He allowed them to meet when he needed something – repairs, for the most part – and that was it. Why the hell was he risking waking up with her and facing what would be the near-insurmountable challenge of pillow talk?

But she'd answered her own question. He was the one who decided when they would meet. This wasn't a risk, it was orchestrated. He wanted this to happen, he wanted the morning after to go ahead, but how, how could they possibly exchange pleasantries in bed together, naked, when neither of them could be civil to the other for longer than six seconds in the normal world, where sex wasn't involved at all?

An involuntary spasm of panic rolled her onto her side, staring wide-eyed into the dark. The big red digits of the bedside clock delivered a much needed shot of sanity. Quarter to three. She'd barely been asleep ten minutes. Vegeta wanted nothing from her. He wanted one of his power naps before clearing off to the gravity room.

She collapsed onto her back with a sigh of relief, everything easy and logical again. When she woke again he'd be gone. All she had to do was fall asleep in the twenty minutes... ten minutes... five minutes... however many minutes a power nap might take-

Her head jerked sideways, and Bulma found herself meeting Vegeta's gaze. His black eyes betrayed no sign of that sleepy haze she usually woke into, but he looked less predatory than usual. She froze nevertheless, staring back in utter shock. His frown deepened slightly, before he rolled back onto his other side with a dismissive huff.

No pillow talk. No awkwardness. Just a sharp stab of fear, then a swift decline back into their usual state of mild derision. She felt herself relax, taking a deep, steadying gulp of air.

Then she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and slipped out into the gloom.

"Well then, I'm going," she said, her tone as comfortable as she felt.

She paused to stoop and gather up what clothes she could find, balancing them on her hip as she turned the doorknob and let herself out into the hall. The latch clicked smoothly shut behind her.

"Good," she heard him say darkly to the empty room.

* * *

Edit 20/6/2011: this is bein' expanded into my chaptered fic, _All Good Things_, which is a longer-winded VB hook up story, I s'pose!


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